Nightlife
by betawho
Summary: The Doctor had a whole life at night that none of his Companions knew about. A life with is wife. A wife who spent all her days in prison. He'd promised her all her nights would belong to him, but sometimes she didn't wait for him to arrive, sometimes she went to him...


"Sweetie!"

River danced into the Tardis, completely oblivious that the console room was empty. She continued down the stairs, down the corridors.

She felt light and boisterous. She had a plan, a purpose, a very naughty urge. All she required was her Sweetie.

"River!" the Doctor popped his head out of a doorway. He made shushing motions with his hands. "Clara's still asleep."

"All the better," River waltzed up, wearing one of her filmy dresses. She planted her hands on his shoulders and laid a slow, tummy tingling kiss on him.

"Mmm," she hummed as she pulled away. She was a bit flushed, a bit tousled (how had his hands gotten in her hair?) a bit twinkly eyed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, clearing his throat, trying not to sound as affected as he was.

"It's night," she said by way of explanation, pushing into the workroom he was currently occupying. She looked around then dismissed the technological clutter. She turned to him, tilting her head and giving him a naughty smile. "And since you hadn't arrived yet, I thought I'd come to you."

"You do know when this is, don't you?" he asked, straightening his bowtie, somehow it had gotten askew, and half undone. He scowled at her as he retied it.

She grinned back at him, irrepressible, and let her eyes wander down his torso. "Hmm," she agreed. "I always did like you in that outfit." Rib hugging waistcoat, long swishy tweed jacket, those fancy boots he favored on his long feet.

She let her eyes slide back up, enjoying the journey. He was blushing by the time she reached his face.

"So why are you here?" he asked.

Her eyebrows popped up. Her eyes gleamed.

He waved his hands. "I didn't mean that. You've obviously got a plan," he let his eyes slide down over her bright filmy dress, it was a bit formal, a bit haute couture, naturally fit well in all the right places, and was very her. It was the high society style of dress she wore when she wanted people to think, "Yes, dear, I belong here. Don't mind me."

He felt his hearts lift. They always lifted when they looked at her. Her naughty eyes and her kissable lips and her unmanageable hair, and her sense of style and adventure.

He sucked in a breath through his nose. She grinned at him. "You've heard of the Nishan Nebula?" she asked.

"Yes," he said doubtfully. She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room. She looked back at him as she tugged him down the corridor. "Are you aware the Royal Prince of Valesh was building a pleasure palace there?"

"Yeees...' he drawled slowly, as she pulled him up the stairs to the console room.

She turned and grinned at him. "Are you aware that the Royal Prince's bastard half brother has been invited?"

He stopped and stared at her. "The one who has been secretly trying to usurp his throne?"

"Yes," she drawled. She reached into her bodice and pulled out two gilt edged invitations. "And I've got tickets." She waved them at him.

She cocked her head. "Care to join me for a week at a pleasure palace, and a civil war?"

She grinned at him out of dark, naughty eyes, daring, inviting.

Ooh, she knew him, this wife of his.

"But what'll we do about Clara?" he asked.

She patted the console. "What you always do, put the Tardis in temporal stasis until we're back." She turned and trotted up to the doors. She turned and looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Coming, Sweetie?"

The image of his wife, inviting, flirtatious, brought him up on his toes. The promise of adventure made his hearts beat. The hand she held out to him promised life, in all its fullness.

Without even looking, he flicked a familiar set of controls. He dashed up to join his wife.

"Don't I always?"

She laughed.

They opened the door.

—

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